Encounters With a Medusa
by Monkshood92
Summary: Lady Eleanor Brandon arrives at court, and is instantly labelled a  friendless medusa. As Cromwell continues to make life-threatening mistakes in his dealings with the King, his relationship with Eleanor may be the only thing that can save him.
1. Chapter 1

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**A/N:**

I have decided to ignore the existence of Cromwell's wife and son. The romance is rather fast paced, but I figure this is more like little snippets, there are days or weeks in between each chapter. Eleanor is my OC.

* * *

**1**

Standing within a circle of empty space was a woman with her chin lifted defiantly. She was watching the couples dancing, as was most of the court from beyond the invisible ring around the woman. From his vantage point up in the gallery, the Lord Privy Seal, noticed the abnormality of empty space, but could not discern what made the lady so impossible to be near. She wasn't ugly, quite the contrary. She was tall, with delicate facial bones, large green eyes and lips not quite perfect, yet certainly memorable enough. The dark red of her dress set off her auburn hair, and complemented her pale skin tone.

"Who is that young lady?" the Lord Privy Seal asked his attendant.

"I'm not sure my lord; she must be new at court."

"If you would allow me, Master Cromwell," Francis Bryant said from behind the men, "I know that woman. She is indeed new to court."

"Well, who is she?" Cromwell asked again.

Bryant gave a small smirk. "She is called many things. Some call her the Fury, others the Hellion, but my personal favourite is Medusa."

"What?"

Bryant wiped the amusement from his face. "Her name is Lady Eleanor Brandon, the niece of his grace the Duke of Suffolk. Her father recently died, and she's now in the care of Suffolk, who brought her to court hoping for a place among the Queen's ladies. Unfortunately, by the time she arrived, Queen Jane had already died, God rest her soul."

"Suffolk's niece? Has she any other family?"

"No. Her father left her his entire fortune."

"Indeed? She has no siblings?"

"No, my lord. Not a one. She's become quite a catch. The only problem is, she drives every man, and woman for that matter, away within a day of meeting them."

"And that is why no one is near her?"

"Yes."

"Suffolk's niece."

"Yes, my lord."

"I must introduce myself."

"If you say so, my lord."

Cromwell descended the stairs and made his way through the crowd towards the lady. The features which he had noted from afar, when taken all together from this distance, held a certain fierceness, as if the lady was not quite tame. It seemed to confirm what Bryant had said about her temperament. Breaching the invisible boundary around her, Cromwell stepped up beside the lady.

"Would I be right in thinking you are the niece of his grace the Duke of Suffolk?"

The lady sighed. "Don't play games, Master Cromwell. It doesn't become you. You know very well who I am, or you would not be speaking to me."

Cromwell ducked his head. "Lady Eleanor."

"Better. What was your purpose in approaching me?"

"Must a man have a purpose to approach a beautiful woman?"

"_You_ must. You always have a scheme afoot, or so everyone says. And you have no fondness for my uncle."

"Some may say so-"

"_I_ say so."

A long pause ensued.

"Good day, Lady Eleanor." Cromwell bowed.

The lady didn't reply, keeping her eyes on the dance as the Lord Privy Seal left her side.

"Well?" Bryant asked when Cromwell returned to the gallery.

"She does indeed have venom in her tongue, and steel in her gaze."

"What was that about?" the Duchess of Suffolk asked, eyeing Thomas Cromwell as she stepped to her niece's side.

"Nothing, Aunt. Just more of the same."

The Duchess sighed. "I wish you wouldn't be so difficult all the time."

"How can I help what God made me?"

The Duchess sighed again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**2**

Thomas Cromwell walked tiredly into the outermost chamber of the King's suite. He almost walked straight past the girl sitting in the window seat, before her image registered in his mind and he turned. She sat curled up in the light of the sun, her hair glowing like fire. Against her knees rested a board with a piece of rough paper, on which she was busily sketching. The lady had not noticed him yet, she was so engrossed in her work.

"What is it that you draw, Lady Eleanor?"

Eleanor looked up sharply, and quickly stood, the board falling onto the seat. "Master Cromwell! You startled me!"

"Forgive me, but I had thought nothing would frighten you."

"Startled is not the same as scared. You should know that, with your highly trained mind."

"Indeed. Forgive me."

"That's twice you have asked my forgiveness. I don't like people who apologize for their words, or thoughts."

"Forgi-"

Lady Eleanor rose an eyebrow.

"What is it that you draw? May I see it?"

In answer, the lady handed him the piece of paper, and Cromwell studied it with creased brow, and then looked around the room.

"I don't understand. Where is this creature that you draw?"

Eleanor laughed lightly. "Only in my mind, Master Cromwell. You have no need to be _startled_."

"You mean, it's a lie."

Eleanor's mirth cut off sharply. "Don't mock me."

"Forgive me, I don't know how I have offended."

"Don't apologise." Eleanor started to turn away, but then swung around angrily. "Actually, yes. _Do_ apologise. Do you hold my thoughts as less than yours? Because they aren't all to do with religion or politics? Because I am a woman?"

Cromwell was taken aback. "My lady, I never said-"

"I'm not your lady! And you did say! You insulted my imaginings! You called it a lie, just because you can't see it! Do you call angels lies, or love, or hate?"

"But, my lady… surely all art _is_ a lie?" Cromwell said defensively.

Eleanor glared at him for a moment, before the room resounded with the sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh. Cromwell lifted a stunned hand to his reddening cheek, watching as the lady turned on her heel, and strode out of the room, spine straight and stiff with her anger. He still held the drawing in his hand.

It was then that he noticed the Duke of Suffolk leaning against the doorframe across from him.

"I see you've met my niece."

"She just… she _slapped_ me!"

"I grow fonder of her every day."

* * *

**A/N:**

To my understanding, "My lady" was simply a respectful way of referring to a lady, however it could also be used as a term of endearment. Cromwell uses it out of politeness, but Eleanor takes it the other way, purely for the sake of arguing with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**3**

"_You_ assaulted the Lord Privy Seal?" the King asked, bending over with laughter.

Beside Lady Eleanor, Cromwell shifted.

"Tell us, Thomas, what did you do to gain the lady's anger?" Another laugh escaped.

"Truth be told, you majesty, I'm still not rightly sure."

"Do you recall the offense, Lady Eleanor?"

"I do, your majesty."

"Very well. As we do not doubt the lady's word, offense must have been given, therefore, we shall pardon the Lady Eleanor's… crime." Again, a laugh. "Thomas – take this as a lesson in the flightiness of women. You are both dismissed."

As they left the audience chamber, Cromwell could have sworn he heard a muttered "I'm not _flighty_" coming from Eleanor's direction. The woman amazed him. She was so rash and wild, even so close to the king. Eleanor and her uncle were just about to exit the foyer, when Cromwell halted them.

"If I may, your Grace, I should like to speak to your niece. Alone."

Suffolk held Cromwell's gaze for a long while, then glanced down at his niece.

"It's alright, Uncle. Truth be told, Master Cromwell amuses me somewhat."

Suffolk snorted, and Cromwell looked pained.

"Go on ahead. Mr Cromwell shall accompany me back to the apartment."

Cromwell and Eleanor waited until Suffolk had disappeared from sight, and then Eleanor held up her hand.

"Shall we?"

In answer, Cromwell lifted his arm, and, as Eleanor took it, they began walking.

They didn't talk until they had left the crowd of whispering courtiers behind them.

"Well that was entertaining." the Lady Eleanor said.

"Do you often take pleasure at the expense of others?"

"Is it at their expense if they offer it freely? It isn't _my_ fault if others are too dim witted to find amusement where I do."

"I amuse you?"

"In some ways, yes. And I suspect that you and I find amusement in much the same way. The only difference is, you are a creature of control, whereas I couldn't care less."

"I suppose I do like to have control over my emotions and expressions."

"And other people, of course."

Once again, they fell silent.

"What did you want to speak to me about?" Eleanor asked just before they reached her family's apartment.

"Well, I _was_ going to apologise," Eleanor pulled a face, and Cromwell hurried to finish his sentence, "but I know you don't like apologies. So I was wondering if, in repayment for any offence I may have given, however unwittingly, if you would like to be tutored by Master Holdbein. After all, differences on subject matter aside, you are quite talented."

Eleanor stopped walking, her hand slipping from Cromwell's arm to hang by her side.

"Lady Eleanor? Is something the matter?"

"Do you mean it?" the lady asked quietly.

"What?"

"Do you mean it?"

"Lady Eleanor. Have I ever offered something I was either unwilling or incapable of giving? Of course I mean it."

Eleanor's green eyes searched his face, and then she smiled. Cromwell had never seen her smile before. It was a dazzling, and utterly confusing sight.

"Thank you." she said, lowering herself into a deep curtsey. It was the first time she had ever acknowledged his rank and station, and Cromwell suspected that even now, she was not respecting his rank or titles, but his actions.

"You're welcome." he said awkwardly. She opened the apartment door. "Let me know if your uncle gives his permission, and I'll arrange it."

Eleanor turned her head, and gave another wonderful, perplexing smile. "Do I look like I ever ask permission?"

"No, my lady." Cromwell said softly as the door shut behind her. He was beginning to suspect that it wasn't the gaze of the Medusa that turned men to stone, but the moment when she turned away from them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**4**

Lady Eleanor Brandon was striding across the courtyard, clearly on a mission, when Cromwell caught sight of her. She was alone, carrying an awkward bundle from which the head of a paintbrush peeked out, and heading for the gatehouse, where the guards shifted nervously. The black cloud of her reputation preceded her everywhere. Cromwell smiled slightly at the image in his head, and then smiled some more at the thought that she wasn't the only one with an imagination.

However, he schooled his features into their standard mask as he moved to intercept her.

"My lady, where are you going on this fine day?"

"I'm not your lady, and into the city."

"Yes, that's obvious. What I meant was, why are you going alone? The city is full of dangerous men, even during the daytime, as I'm sure these fine fellows can testify."

The guards shifted anxiously, murmuring a few replies.

"Master Cromwell. I am very aware of the possible danger of the city, and am equally capable of taking care of myself."

"Yes, but-"

"But what?"

"But…" for once Cromwell was lost for words. Eleanor stood there expectantly. The guards moved from foot to foot. Cromwell grabbed at the first thing that came to mind. "But what does your guardian think of you going into the city on your own? It's not exactly beneficial to your reputation?"

Eleanor laughed scornfully. "You would talk to _me_ about reputation? I am used to whispers and murmurs."

"All the same-"

"Master Cromwell, if you are so concerned about my going alone, you are welcome to chaperone me yourself."

Cromwell sniffed. "I have far too much work today. Perhaps if you would postpone your outing til tomorrow-"

"Master Cromwell, I have no desire to wait on the schedule of anyone, excepting myself. And, of course, the King. But seeing as you do not have an order from the King demanding me to stay here, I shall bid you good day."

The guards drew themselves to attention as Eleanor passed, and then turned to face Cromwell, who rubbed his temples and groaned.

"You there!" he barked at the closest guard. "Make sure his grace the Duke of Suffolk knows what just happened. Tell him I shall make sure no harm comes to the Lady Eleanor."

"Yes, my lord."

Cromwell hurried after the lady, who said nothing, merely handing him her bundle.

The guards watched them go. One of them shook his head. "She has him well and truly leashed."

"Aye, and he doesn't even know it." Said another

"Or if he does, he doesn't care."

The oldest guard simply nodded his head sagely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**5**

"That woman is insufferable!" Holdbein burst into Cromwell's offices frothing at the mouth.

Cromwell looked up from his desk. "I was under the impression she was trying her utmost to restrain herself while in your lessons."

"That's exactly the point! _Trying_! Not succeeding!"

"Honestly, Holdbein. She's not really as bad as everybody makes her out to be."

"Forgive me, my lord, but you are alone in that opinion. Some even say that…"

Cromwell looked up. "Yes?"

"Nothing, my lord."

Cromwell leant forward and mad a steeple of his fingers, thinking. "Well. I take it she _is_, in fact, talented?"

"Extremely so, my lord."

"And she heeds your advice and tutelage?"

"Well, yes. Except-"

"Yes?"

"Sometimes her subject matter is a little… odd."

Cromwell smiled. "I can well imagine." He glanced at the wall in front of his desk. In one frame rested the first drawing of hers he had seen. In the other, the more realistic painting of the busy marketplace she had begun on their excursion into the city.

"My lord?" Holdbein asked as the silence stretched on.

Cromwell sniffed and recalled the present conversation. "So. She is talented and is in fact a good student. But her manner offends, is that it?"

"Yes, my lord."

"If I talked to her about it, would you be willing to continue?"

"With respect, my lord, I do not think it will help very much. And as you know, the king is sending me away to take the portraits of various potential brides. I will not be at court for a long while."

"I see. Very well. Her lessons shall be suspended, and perhaps her temper will cool down."

"Thank you, my lord."


	6. Chapter 6

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**6**

"That man is insufferable!" Lady Eleanor burst into Cromwell's office, the air around her auburn head nearly sparking with her anger.

Cromwell sighed as the whispers started up, again. "What is it this time, Lady Eleanor?"

"Holdbein has told me our lessons are over!"

"And?"

"And? And _I_ didn't say I'd finished learning from him!"

Cromwell put the sheaf of papers he was holding down on the nearest desk. "Lady Eleanor, are you aware that your manner upsets the large majority of people here at court?"

"Of course I am! And I don't care!"

"Well, Holdbein does. He complained to me about you."

Eleanor fumed. "Has he looked in a mirror lately?"

Cromwell ignored her. "What you may not know is that the King has sent Holdbein away on a lengthy commission. It would have been impossible to continue your lessons in any case."

"So?"

"So I cancelled all further lessons."

Lady Eleanor stepped into Cromwell's personal space, lifting her chin angrily. Cromwell could feel her breath on his face. "You did _what_?" she hissed.

Cromwell's staff looked at each other nervously. Someone suppressed a snigger.

"I _cancelled_ your _lessons_."

Eleanor rose a hand to slap him, but, expecting it, Cromwell caught her wrist, halting her blow before she could strike.

_Slap!_

She hit him with the other hand.


	7. Chapter 7

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**7**

The King was laughing. "She assaulted you _again_? Thomas, you really do make us laugh. What was it this time, Lady Eleanor?"

"I forget, your majesty."

"You forget?"

"Some people… some do say I have a hot temper."

"Is this true, Thomas?"

"I would rather not say, your majesty."

"Ha! Afraid she'll give you another beating?"

"With respect, your majesty, it wasn't so much a beating, as a single blow, which the lady soon regretted."

"Indeed. Well, Lady Eleanor, we shall forgive you again, for the great amusement you bring us. Although, I wish you two would just marry and get this over with."

"What?" Both Eleanor and Cromwell visibly started, looking at each other, and then away when they met each others' eyes. The Duke of Suffolk glared suspiciously at Cromwell.

The King smirked. "We will only forgive you so many times."

The two left the room side by side, studiously not looking at each other.

"I-"

"We sho-"

They both halted awkwardly, and Eleanor motioned for Cromwell to speak.

"I think we had best forget that last part."

"Yes, indeed." Eleanor said in a daze.

"You'd better forget it." Suffolk said from behind Cromwell, who quickly peeled away to be about his business.


	8. Chapter 8

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**8**

Lady Eleanor made her way through the crowd to talk to Cromwell.

"Master Cromwell."

"My lady."

"I'm not your lady."

Their standard greeting over, the two paused to watch as the King led his new bride, Anne of Cleves, in their first dance as a married couple.

"Did I tell you the Queen made me one of her ladies in waiting?"

"I had heard that, yes. Do you think you can restrain your temper for long amounts of time amongst the highest of companies?" His tone was teasing.

Eleanor glared at him. "Do you _want_ me to hit you again?"

The two were silent once again.

"I wish someone would ask me to dance." Eleanor said after a while.

Cromwell glanced down at her, but her gaze was firmly fixed on the couples dancing. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. He smiled inwardly, but outwardly sighed. "Would you like to dance, my lady?"

"I'm not your lady. And if you insist."

She took his hand, and he led her into the swirl of people. The King caught sight of them and laughed. Suffolk glared, while his wife smiled. Everybody else just gaped or whispered.

Although she pretended not to enjoy herself, a small smile leaked out from under Eleanor's control. Even with its small proportions, the smile completely baffled Cromwell. He didn't understand why this woman, who vexed him so much, could smile such a small smile, and completely disarm him. He was lucky his control was far better than hers.

"Really, my lady, I'm surprised you are such an accomplished dancer."

"Oh, why is that? And I'm not your lady."

"Well, knowing so _intimately_ the violence of your nature, I wouldn't think many men would have asked you to dance."

Eleanor was amused, although she tried to stifle the signs of it, snuffing out the smile that had begun to twitch into a larger arc. "Really, Master Cromwell, your version of flattery is quite bewildering."

"I wish you would call me Thomas."

"I would have thought that wouldn't be quite _appropriate _enough for you, Master Cromwell."

"I thought appropriateness wasn't something you cared much for."

"True enough… Thomas."

The dance over, the two moved to the side of the room. Eleanor reached for a cup of wine, and Cromwell noticed her hand was shaking. She almost knocked the cup over, but Cromwell rescued it before it could spill.

"Are you alright, Lady Eleanor?"

Eleanor's face was flushed. "I just feel a little weak suddenly. I'm sure it will pass."

Cromwell nodded uncertainly, and the two of them watched the dance once again.

After a while, Cromwell felt Eleanor's hand on his arm. "Thomas, I think… I think I'm"

Cromwell looked over at her, just in time to catch her around the waist as she began to fall. "My lady? Are you alright?"

"I think… I think I should retire for the evening."

"Of course, my lady."

"I'm not your lady."

With Cromwell supporting her, Eleanor made her way out of the hall, first making a detour towards her aunt and uncle.

"Master Cromwell." Suffolk said, staring pointedly at Cromwell's hand under Eleanor's arm.

"Suffolk."

Eleanor sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at their antagonism. "Uncle, I feel quite ill suddenly, and am going to retire for the evening."

Her aunt made a few concerned suggestions.

"No, don't send a physician. I'm sure a little rest is all I need. We've been quite busy preparing for her majesty, you know."

"Should I accompany you back to your room?" Suffolk asked.

"No. Stay here in case the King wants you. Master Cromwell shall accompany me. Please make sure Lady Rochford knows."

Suffolk huffed, but didn't argue with his niece. After all, she had just implied that he was more important to the King than Cromwell was.

Cromwell and Eleanor walked in silence to her new room as one of the Queen's ladies. Because of the silence, they were both very aware of the contact between them. Cromwell's hand on her arm, and on the small of her back when she stumbled weakly, radiated warmth, and its presence was heavy, even though the pressure and force he used was not.

They reached Eleanor's door, and she turned to face Cromwell, whose hand slipped down into hers.

"Are you sure you don't want a physician?" Cromwell studied Eleanor's face intently.

"Thomas…" Eleanor said warningly.

"I know, I know. You can take care of yourself."

A long silence ensued. Cromwell gazed into Eleanor's green eyes, and she forgot he was still holding her hand.

"Well," she said eventually. "I bid you goodnight."

Her hand slipped out of his and she turned to open the door, slipping inside.

"Lady Eleanor…" Cromwell said, just before she shut the door.

She looked back expectantly.

"Thank you for the dance."

"Yes, it was quite adequate." Eleanor stated matter-of-factly.

She smiled then, and gently shut the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**9**

"My lord." a servant made his way through Cromwell's busy office. The Lady Eleanor had been ill for over a week, and the offices of the Lord Privy Seal reflected his distracted mental state. "My lord, Lady Brandon has asked to see you." the servant reached Cromwell's side and whispered in his ear. Cromwell didn't wait, striding out of the room, throwing an order to continue working over his shoulder as he hurriedly made his way to the Queen's apartments, and Lady Eleanor's room there. He was shown in by Lady Rochford, who left immediately after to go about her duties.

Beside the bed sat a tired looking Duchess of Suffolk, and the Queen's personal physician stood beside her. In the bed, face flushed with fever and her mass of auburn hair tangled around her and sticking to the sweat on her forehead, lay the Lady Eleanor. The sheets beneath her right arm were tinted pink from when the physician had bled her.

Cromwell moved quickly to stand beside the bed. "My lady."

"I'm not… your lady, Thomas."

"No, Lady Eleanor. You sent for me?"

"Yes… I want you to tell… Master Holdbein… that I'm sorry, and to thank him for his tutelage."

"Of course." Cromwell waited expectantly, remembering the various handprints the lady had placed rather violently on his own face. But Eleanor didn't offer any further apologies. The silence grew longer. "Well," Cromwell said, "if that was all, I'll take my leave."

He turned to go, but was halted as Eleanor's hand caught his own. "Thomas, wait."

The Duchess and the physician exchanged a glance. Something in Cromwell's chest caught as he turned. "Yes, Lady Eleanor?"

Eleanor was gazing intently at him with her green eyes. "I _did_ enjoy our dance."

Cromwell smiled slightly, and Eleanor closed her eyes, sinking back into the pillows.


	10. Chapter 10

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**10**

Cromwell spotted Lady Eleanor walking in the palace gardens, and hurried to intercept her path.

"Thomas."

"My lady. Your aunt tells me you are quite recovered from your illness?"

"Yes, and have been for a while now. And I'm not your lady."

"I'm glad I caught you alone." Cromwell said. "I wanted to give you something for your birthday."

"How did you know?" Eleanor asked, taking the package he held out.

"I have my methods." Cromwell watched as she unwrapped the cloth covering of the present, revealing a small book bound in white leather. She turned it over, puzzled.

"It's an English version of the four gospels." Cromwell explained.

Eleanor gaped at him, looking down at the book quickly, and then back up at him, green eyes wide.

She lowered her head. "Thomas, I… I do not believe I am worthy to be given God's word. It is such a precious thing."

Cromwell lifter her chin. "And _I _say you are. God created you with his words, just as you are. Can you dispute with God? Hmm?"

Eleanor gave a small smile. "Of course. As you well know, I dispute with _everyone._ I make it a point not to discriminate."

Cromwell tilted his head consideringly. "Of course there are certain things he could have improved."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

"There is the matter of your temper, and manner. And what colour is you hair, exactly? It's neither red nor brown. God could at least have made that clear. And then your _imagination_! Well! What I cou-"

_Slap!_

Eleanor was frowning, but a smile tugged at her lips.

Her face was so close, and her smile was no longer puzzling to him. Cromwell couldn't help it. The sting of her hand still on his face, he grasped a handful of her auburn hair and pulled her close, covering her mouth with his own, matching her ferocity blow for blow. Surprised, but not really shocked, Eleanor's eyes closed and she gave in, returning his kiss and clutching the front of his doublet. Several long moments passed, and then the lady's eyes flew open, and she struggled against Cromwell, ending the kiss, but not pushing him away. Cromwell let out a shuddering breath, leaning his head against hers, his eyes still closed.

"Thomas?" Eleanor said with a tremor in her voice.

"Hmm?"

"Thomas, what… what does this mean? For us?"

Cromwell opened his eyes and drew back, frowning in puzzlement. "I thought you would know what it means, my lady."

Eleanor drew herself up, anger in her green eyes. "I'm not your lady! I'm not _anyone's_ lady!"

Cromwell was utterly confused now. "Eleanor?"

"I am not a whore!" She was sobbing now, and beat her fist against his chest, just once, and then turned, almost running back to the palace.

Cromwell stood stunned, and then noticed the white bible lying in the grass. How could a moment have gone from so wonderful, to so miserable, in so short a time?


	11. Chapter 11

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**11**

For the whole of the following week, Lady Eleanor refused to leave the Queen's apartments, opening her gifts and going about her duties morosely, blaming a persistent headache for her mood. The other ladies walked around her timidly, for this bleak disposition was so vastly different from Eleanor's normal angry state that they did not know how to respond.

Finally, during a cool afternoon, a servant came in and presented her with another parcel, and told her he was to wait for a reply. Unwrapping the familiar cloth, she stroked the white cover of the bible, tears welling again. Then, she heard a clunk, and looked down to see another, smaller package had fallen out of the wrappings of the first, onto the floor. She bent to pick it up, hands shaking. Within the wrappings, there was a note, and a third, smaller package. She opened the note, recognising the handwriting instantly.

_My lady (and I know that you are not),_

_I am sorry that my actions last week caused you such distress. Believe me, it was not intended, and I regret the hurt I caused you. But I do not regret the action. I assure you, my intentions toward you are entirely honourable, and proof of this is within the parcel I have sent you._

Eleanor opened the smaller parcel, and put a hand over her mouth. She gently stroked the curve of the ring, disbelievingly, and then turned back to the note.

_I had it made for you. I'm sorry it took so long, but I wanted to be sure of the quality. Please, I beg you, accept it. Accept my hand, which belongs to you, and you alone. If, as I most fear, you do not return my affections, send the ring back to me. I will never broach the subject again, you have my word. The bible is yours to keep, as was always intended._

_Your ever-loving servant,_

_Thomas Cromwell_

Eleanor read it again, then let out a laugh. The other ladies in the room shared glances amongst themselves as she began to laugh, almost hysterically. They had never heard her laugh before, and now she couldn't stop.

"Lady Brandon? What reply shall I give?" the servant asked tentatively.

Eleanor regained control of herself, yet couldn't restrain the smile on her face. She picked up the ring, put it on, and then, ignoring the servant, flew out of the room, feet barely touching the ground.

"Lady Brandon?" the servant called after her, bewildered.

The ladies looked at each other in astonishment, then crowded around the little table where the note lay, reading it aloud. Shocked silence ensued, before they burst into exited speculation and gossip.


	12. Chapter 12

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**12**

"You've been courting my niece, _without_ my permission?"

"Honestly, your grace, I rather think _she _was courting _me_." Cromwell would have smirked, but he rather thought that would have spoiled his chances. "And as you well know, the Lady Eleanor _never_ asks permission."

Suffolk glared at Cromwell. He disliked the man immensely.

"Uncle!" Suffolk's head whipped round as his niece burst through the side door, closely followed by her aunt, who was trying to call her back.

"Eleanor!" Suffolk barked, but his niece ignored him, moving to Cromwell's side and taking his hand.

The Duchess moved to her husband's side. "I'm sorry Charles. I tried to stop her."

Suffolk sighed. "Niece. Why on earth do you want to marry Cromwell? I thought you hated him!"

"No, uncle. I love him." Eleanor said simply.

"Love? But are you not always being brought before the King for _assaulting_ this man? Your tongue finds fault with him, and your fist even more so, and yet you say you _love_ him?"

Eleanor stepped angrily between Cromwell and her uncle. "Yes, I hit him. I hit him all the time and he loves me still! How could I _not_ love such a man?"

"Still. He is not a worthy match for a woman of such high standing. And he did not ask my permission!"

The Duchess looked from her husband to her niece. "With respect, Charles, it is more than likely that no man would ever ask for her hand, given her temperament. And the Lord Privy Seal is not without his own prestige and wealth. After all, the King did make him Earl of Essex."

Suffolk sighed, but could see his wife's point, and the stubbornness on his niece's face. He rubbed his temples. "All right. The betrothal will stand."

Eleanor let out a sound of joy, and hugged her uncle, then her aunt. "Thank you, thank you!"

"But," Suffolk said warningly. "you must get the King's permission as well."

Eleanor nodded, and dragged Cromwell out of the apartment.

Suffolk stood silently for a long time holding a hand to his face.

"I wish she hadn't chosen _him._" he said quietly.

The Duchess looked at him. "Why? Husband, what is it?"

Suffolk looked her in the eyes. "He's already been set on the path to his downfall. It's too late to change anything now."

"You mean…"

"I do."

The Duchess gasped, and sat down in the nearest chair.


	13. Chapter 13

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**13**

"Master Cromwell haz been arrested." the Queen told Eleanor a few weeks later.

Eleanor opened her mouth, but the angry tirade she desperately hoped for didn't come out. She was stunned. "But… why?"

The poor Queen looked down at her hands. "I fear… it iz my fault. I do not please the King, so he turnz 'iz anger elsewhere. He haz accused Master Cromwell of treazon."

"Treason! I've never heard anything so ridiculous!"

The Queen put a hand on Eleanor's arm. "You mustn't say such thingz! You _muzt_ be careful!"

Eleanor took a deep breath, and nodded sullenly to acknowledge the sense of the Queen's words.

She held her tongue for over a week, pacing the Queen's apartments and unleashing short bursts of fury on those around her, but always avoiding the subject of her fiancé and his arrest. Finally, she could bear it no longer. She made her way to the audience chamber of the King, and asked, as politely as her temper allowed, for an audience. When she was finally admitted, she could see her uncle standing to one side, glaring at her pointedly. The other advisors gentleman standing about looked down their noses at she who had formed such an unfortunate alliance with Cromwell.

"My Lady Brandon." the King said. "What may we do for you this fine day? I think, this time, it will not be to pardon you for assault."

"No, your majesty." Eleanor rose from her bow. "I seek a much greater pardon."

The King laughed. "What, have you advanced to murder now?"

"Your majesty, I beg you. The pardon is not for me, but for my fiancé, who once enjoyed you love and is now suffering from the lack of it."

The exhaled loudly. "Leave us, all of you! Not you, Suffolk."

"Your majesty." Suffolk bowed his head and returned to his place.

"Now," the King said, turning back to the woman before him. "what makes you so presumptuous that you doubt our judgement? We only forgive you because we understand the strength of your attachment for Cromwell. Indeed, you made it quite plain to us when you requested our permission for your affiancement." Henry was becoming angry, and his anger could match hers.

Eleanor sunk to her knees in desperation. "Your majesty, please! I do not presume to know your mind. But I do know my fiancé's! I am _sure_ that everything he has ever done has been in the service of yourself and our beloved Christ! I admit that he is capable of maliciousness, but it has _never_ been turned towards you, or this country!"

"You may think that. Indeed, it may even be true that his intentions were righteous. Yet however well-meaning his actions were, they were utterly misguided. We cannot pardon him. We cannot allow others to think they may do as they please."

A sob caught in Eleanor's throat, but she swallowed it and composed herself as well as she could. Then she paused as a thought struck her, and she looked up quickly. "But what if… what if nobody knew?"

"Lady, what do you mean?"

"Supposing… supposing a double, a lookalike, was executed in his stead. If he changed his name, and retired utterly and absolutely from public life, both political and religious. If we went away to my farthest, smallest estate, were nobody knew us. Your majesty could have the rest of it, I wouldn't care, so long as _he_ lived. Nobody need ever know, nobody need…" She trailed off, and ducked her head again.

King Henry was reminded of his old friend Thomas Moore, who had diligently kept away from the eye of the public, and whose death he so regretted. Even so… "Lady, we know Thomas Cromwell. We do not believe he would be able to constrain himself to that lifestyle. He would soon be desperate for the workings of the court, and may be tempted to renege on his word. Suffolk, what do you think?"

Suffolk had been deep in thought. "Your majesty, you know I have no love for Cromwell, and even less for traitors in general. But much as I would love to see him dead, I want even more to see my niece happy. And I do believe that for her, Cromwell would endure anything."

"Your majesty, please." Eleanor whispered. "I believe you to be the most gracious, merciful prince in all of Christendom. Please, prove me right."

The King stared at her for a long while. Then he nodded. "You speak truly. Very well, let it be done."

Suffolk nodded and moved to leave.

"Suffolk! Make sure _nobody_ besides us three here know of this plan."

"Yes, your majesty."


	14. Chapter 14

**Encounters With a Medusa**

**14**

Cromwell stood quickly as the Duke of Suffolk entered his cell.

"Suffolk, I don't understand, they told me I was to be executed a week past by now, what's-"

"You are not to be executed after all." Suffolk interrupted him.

Cromwell was confused. "But… I don't understand…" His words trailed off and he slowly sat down.

Suffolk explained about the King's decision, and Eleanor's part in it. "She wanted to come with me, but feared it would arouse comment."

Cromwell could barely speak. "Where…"

"She's waiting at her manor in northern Wales. Indeed, it is her only estate now. And of course, you have none."

Cromwell nodded. "And my name… what is my name to become?"

Suffolk recalled a meeting long ago. "What about Thomas Archer? You're a fair shot, I remember."

Cromwell smiled. "Indeed."

Several weeks later, Cromwell stood beside Eleanor in a small chapel. Behind them stood a frowning Suffolk, and his gently smiling duchess. The priest droned on benignly, and finally pronounced them married. Lady Eleanor was now Lady Eleanor Archer. She was also Lady Eleanor Cromwell.

Her husband leant his head next to hers, and whispered in her ear. "My lady."

Eleanor opened her mouth. "I'm not-" She halted, and then smiled.


End file.
